


One Night

by WritLarge



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluffy Ending, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Has Issues, M/M, brief blacksand mention, mentions of emotional abuse in jack's history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 14:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Jack's one-night stand is a revelation.





	One Night

“Are you crying?”

Oh, God. Was he really this pathetic?

Jack had been miserable since the break-up. He shouldn’t have been. Rationally, he knew that. Will had been demanding, selfish, and relentlessly negative. Always ready to point out how nothing Jack did was ever good enough. It had worn him down little by little until he’d finally ended things, leaving Jack with the guilt and regret of having ruined everything. 

His friends had assured him otherwise once he'd actually started talking to them again. Not that he’d had many, to begin with, given that Jack was better at making friendly acquaintances than deep friendships. The few good ones he’d managed to make had been left behind once he and Will had gotten serious. He’d been a crap friend. They'd moved on with their lives now and meeting here and there with them for a coffee or a drink was nice but fleeting. And lonely. And entirely his fault. 

No one had argued with him about that.

He’d had no idea how to fix it. So, he'd anxiously (desperately) tried dating again. He wasn't very good at that either. A few years out of college, he found it harder to meet people and he wasn't much for clubs, not by himself. When he did meet someone, first dates went well. Jack still knew how to have some fun. It was on second and third dates, when he tried to find a connection with them, that things had typically stuttered, either going flat or turning sour. He’d agonized over what he was doing wrong, eventually thinking that if he kept things light and casual, maybe he’d get somewhere. But doing that always left him feeling empty and foolish. Jack wanted more and he had no idea how to get it.

With Mike, he’d made it to five dates before it had all gone wrong. The more time they'd spent together, the more tired had Jack got. He didn't know why. It wasn't until their last date that it had hit him. The passive-aggressive tones, the way Jack always caved to going where Mike wanted, when Mike wanted - it was just like before. Just like every relationship he'd been in.

And then Jack had wondered if it was him. Was he broken? Did he unconsciously seek out assholes and throw himself at their feet? The more he'd thought about it the more depressed he'd felt. The men he preferred were usually bigger than he was, assertive, confident, and usually what Jack thought was witty but in retrospect was just snarky or mean. Was that honestly what he wanted?

He didn't know, but that hadn't stopped him from getting ridiculously drunk and going clubbing. If he was going to be this fucked up at least he wouldn't be alone. He'd danced and flirted and aggressively had fun, most of his buzz had worn off when he'd stumbled into the arms of a gorgeous man and readily agreed to go home with him. 

Jack had expected a quick hard fuck and shove out the door. Instead, the tall, broad, and dryly sarcastic man he'd gone to bed with had been a more warm and attentive lover than Jack had ever had. A fucking one-night stand! That a random hook-up was better than anything Jack had deliberately sought out for himself was humiliating.

He'd crumbled.

“Hey now, c'mere.” Jack couldn't remember the name of the man who pulled him gently back into his arms and tucked Jack's head under his chin. He had an accent though. Australian? “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” The arms around him were warm, though the man left his hold loose, dark skin contrasting sharply with Jack’s paleness.

“You going to be all right?” 

“Probably not,” Jack shook his head. Fuck. “I should go.”

“If you want, but I'd rather you stay.” 

Jack snorted involuntarily, “And blubber all over you?”

“I don't mind having a pretty thing like you curled up on my chest, though I'd like to help if I can.” God, he was so… “Was it something I did? Bad memories?”

“Not really. I mean, I just… it was really nice.”

“Nice?” Jack shifted back to look up, noting the man's raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he turned his face away. “I'm not used to nice, I guess.”

“Which means your ex was probably an asshole.”

“God. It's like I pick them out.”

“I don't know your issues, maybe, but don't you think it's just as likely that they went after you?” The idea was so out of left field it made Jack’s head spin.

“What?”

“You're a cute little twink,” he ruffled Jack’s hair, “and it was pretty obvious at the club that you were looking for something. Some jerks seek out folks like that, people who are maybe just that much lonelier or don't feel like they really deserve to be treated well, and use it against them.”

That wasn’t- it wasn’t- Jack closed his eyes and thought about how invisible he often felt and how flattered he was when men approached him. How hard he found being alone. How ready he was to hope for the best and ignore red flags like he had with Mike.

“W-what did you think of me then?” Was he that pathetic?

“That you were gorgeous and a bit lonely and we might suit each other nicely,” he said and stroked his hand down Jack’s back, making him want to melt into the mattress.

“I guess you weren’t wrong,” Jack acknowledged with a blush. “I’m kind of messed up.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say. There’s nothing messed up about being lonely. Listen, my best mate is a Psychologist. Provides counselling for domestic violence survivors and decompresses by venting to me. It's not exactly the same, but some of the tactics abusers use are too ruddy common. Bet he made you feel like a complete fuck up most of the time, no matter how much you tried to please him.”

Jack nodded and tried to keep his emotions in check.

“Aww, c'mere.” The Australian tucked Jack back into place against his chest. “You'll be all right. You’re sweet and lovely, and you’ve got a wicked sense of fun, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“You were watching me?” 

“You're a beaut, Jackie. I could hardly help myself.” Did he have to be so… Fuck, Jack didn’t know what to say but he wanted to curl up here forever. He sighed and pressed his forehead into the man’s neck, letting his fingers trace the lines of the tattoos that curved across his skin.

“I don't even remember your name.”

“It's Aster,” he said and chuckled. “Go to sleep if ya want. I'm not going to hack ya to death with an axe or anything.” 

“You would say that.” It was Jack who giggled then, still a bit subdued from the earlier crying jag. “Maybe I should check under your bed just in case.”

“No weaponry under there, just dust bunnies. Go on, we're done for tonight, yeah?” The hand that ran through Jack's hair was soothing. It felt good and he was tired. 

“Yeah,” Jack let himself relax. It was just for the night. It wasn't like anyone would be missing him anyway.

The next morning Aster insisted on feeding him a heaping breakfast of eggs and toast, while Jack admired his host's shirtless form in the morning light. He was beautiful. It didn't stop Jack from refusing his offer of a ride though and walking home with his jumbled thoughts.

He didn't give Aster his number and Aster didn't ask anything of him, except to say that he'd be welcome to drop by anytime and maybe they'd see each other around?

Jack thought about what Aster had said a lot. Wondered what it would be like to be with someone like that. Someone positive and warm and optimistic. Someone who wouldn't get upset at a carefree one night stand turning into a pity party. He would have liked to see him again, but Jack stayed away from the club and couldn't overcome his anxious worries about rejection enough to actually seek Aster out. Besides, he had his own shit to get in order.

He threw himself into his work instead, picking up extra shifts and pitching in where he could. It helped. He met more people and made new friends, not counting the affectionate four-year-olds that clung to him on a daily basis. For the first time, Jack started to enjoy his life outside of whoever he was with. He'd never gone long without a partner and it was strangely liberating. He couldn’t remember why he’d been so worried about being single. He'd even turned down the few offers he got in favour of working on his own baggage, figuring out what he really wanted from a boyfriend and not just what he would settle for. 

The loneliness faded too, now that he’d pulled his head out of his ass and invested himself in his friendships more. Ana was amazing. She was a caseworker for child welfare that he’d met through work and hit it off with. Some of his newer co-workers were great too, fresh out of college and looking up to Jack for advice. With them, Jack, and Ana and her sisters, they built a supportive little group. 

The following year, that support was particularly determined and they convinced Jack to apply for a new job that he was shocked to actually land. His background as an early childhood educator and a half completed Masters in social work, along with a glowing recommendation from his supervisor, had earned him a position at the Twilight Centre. The organization specialized in working with children who'd experienced trauma, either as victims or witnesses of crimes. Jack was there to help the kids, caring for and playing with them, outside of their sessions during the long periods of waiting when parents and staff needed to confer out of earshot of the children. It was hard sometimes when he found out what had happened to them, Ana was a goldmine of coping advice there and it only made him more determined to be good at his job. These kids needed him. 

He hadn’t thought about Aster in months by the time they met again unexpectedly. 

“You want it in the yellow room?” The accent caught his attention. The yellow room had been mostly emptied. It was being redesigned as the new playroom, where Jack would spend most of his time. There were bigger windows, a two-way mirror, and a door where a small playground was being installed thanks to a donation from the Lunanoff Trust. 

“Yes. It should be fairly clear for you.” He could hear Dr. Pitchiner's voice carry down the hall to where he was tidying up after an angry preschooler that had worked out his frustrations with a lot of flying clay. 

“All right. Will you be around to lock up later?”

“No. It'll lock behind you when you leave. Frost might still be here though.” 

A moment after Jack looked up, the psychiatrist peered into the room. 

“Hey, Doc.”

“Jack. I'm leaving for the night. This is Aster. He's redecorating the yellow room for you. He's an old friend of ours and can see himself out, so don't worry about staying late.”

“Uh- sure,” Jack nodded at his boss and tried not to look too awkward. Aster, who appeared in the doorway as Dr. Pitchiner turned and departed, gave him a lopsided smile.

“Evening.” 

“Hi.” 

Aster looked just as amazing as Jack remembered, a slim fitting grey t-shirt showing off his toned arms and a pair of worn jeans hanging low on his hips. His hair was held back by a bandanna, keeping it out of his scruff covered face, and his eyes… they were still shockingly green. Jack could feel the heat on his cheeks. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about the room?” He snapped his thoughts back to the task at hand. The room, right.

Jack nodded and stumbled through an explanation of his job and the plans for the room without making a complete fool of himself. He hadn't been with anyone since that night, not because he was pining, but because he'd needed the space. Now, with the man right there, a whole lot of neglected needs were perking up and hoping to be noticed.

Aster was clearly here to be professional. He probably wouldn’t bring it up if Jack didn’t and Jack had no idea if he should or not. Aster kept asking questions though and they ended up migrating into the yellow room and talking for over an hour before either of them realized the time.

“Sorry, didn’t realize I was keeping you so long. I appreciate your help,” Aster said, rolling up his drafted designs. Almost everything was still on paper, though while they’d talked he'd drawn a rough outline of the mural on the largest wall. Jack was looking forward to it. He loved the style of the artwork and as he stared at the wall it clicked where he recognized it from.

“Oh my God, you’re Bunnymund.”

“What?” Aster looked at him sharply. Jack reached over to grab a picture book from a box that had yet to be moved out of the room and waggled it in front of the artist. 

“E. Aster Bunnymund.”

“Oh. Yeah,” the man smiled softly.

“You have no idea how many pairs of bunny ears I had to make because of these books,” Jack grinned, not at all put out. The preschoolers at the daycare had obsessed over the series. “They’re awesome. I’ve read them so many times I’ve probably got the whole thing memorized.”

“Thanks,” Aster was blushing now. Maybe other people didn’t appreciate picture books? Clearly, they had no idea. Anything that could affect kids the way these books did was magic as far as Jack was concerned. 

“So, when will you start painting? Do you need me to get anything ready?” 

“Nah. I’m coming in tomorrow. Figure I'll get here early and work through the day. Sandy said this weekend was pretty quiet so I wouldn't cause any disruption.” Aster slung his bag over his shoulder. Jack walked with him down to the foyer, snatching up his own backpack on the way.

“You know Dr. Mansnoozie too?”

“We shared a place for a while before he and Koz got together,” Jack remembered the psychologist that Aster had mentioned. It was hard to imagine the shorter of his bosses being so affected. Dr. Mansnoozie always seemed so calm. Dr. Pitchiner was too, but in a different way. 

“Dr. Pitchiner is really...” and there Jack was stuck, not knowing how to describe his boss and Aster's friend without offending him. 

“Koz is one of a kind,” Aster nodded in understanding, snagging a leather jacket from the rack and pulling it on, drawing Jack’s attention back to the broad shoulders he’d pillowed his head on once. It took him a moment to realize that Aster was holding the door open for him. 

“Uh - thanks.”

“No worries.” They exited into the dimly lit parking lot. “You like working here, though?”

“Yeah, I do. The kids-” Jack jerked to a stop when the door locks clicked loudly into place after them. “Crap. You don’t have keys, do you?”

Aster shrugged, “Sandy'll let me in first thing.”

“But you'll be stuck here all day,” Jack said. “Do you want me to bring you lunch?” The offer was out before Jack had any time to agonize over whether he should make it. He hoped it wasn't too much. 

“Yeah?” Aster blinked at him before breaking into a wide smile. “I'd like that a lot. I'll warn you though, I can get a little grumpy when I'm working if things don't go quite right.”

“I think I can handle it,” Jack bounced on his toes, courage bolstered. “You didn't murder me with an axe when you had the chance after all.” 

“That is a low bar, Jackie, but all right,” Aster laughed. There, past history acknowledged.

“Besides, if you act up I'll keep the cookies for myself.”

“I'll be on my best behaviour for you then.” 

Aster was still smiling and Jack wanted to punch the air in victory. Lunch. With an attractive man that was kind and talented and deserved so much more than sandwiches and store-bought cookies. Thank God he could cook.

Then Aster climbed astride a massive black and chrome motorcycle, all strength and leather and further provoked Jack’s resurgent libido to derail his thoughts. Again. 

“You need a ride?” Aster asked, snapping his helmet on.

That sounded like the best idea ever, but Jack would probably spontaneously combust the way things were going and he wanted to get this second chance between them right.

“No. I have someone coming.”

“All right, then,” Aster brought the bike to life. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you.” The second Aster had rumbled out of sight, Jack whipped out his phone.

“Ana? Are you busy? Thank God, because I will make you three dozen of those low-carb coconut almond cookies you like if you give me a ride to the grocery store _right now_.”


End file.
